


Did You Ever See A Robin Weep?

by soap (Anaarlips)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Grief/Mourning, someone give mikasa a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaarlips/pseuds/soap
Summary: Mikasa's no stranger to loss, yet love's sorrow leaves her reeling.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Sasha Blouse
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	Did You Ever See A Robin Weep?

**Author's Note:**

> SEASON FOUR EPISODE 8 SPOILERS!
> 
> iykyk
> 
> title named after Hank William's 'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry'. I'll post my Sasha playlist later.

She looks below. Filthy, scraggled, bloody. Bodies limp and contorted amongst splintered wood. A child, crushed beneath the rubble.

A boy, gazing back at her with those green eyes, vacant; their childhood anger’s flown free. The sky is choked with smoke and flame.

“Eren,” she whispers, “you….”

“Do you have any idea….what you’ve done?”

She tightens her grip on her gear, the metal digging into her sweaty palms. 

“You...killed civilians….you even killed children.”

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even blink. She’s not even sure if he’s looking at her. He has that faraway glaze. Lost.

Her eyes sting.

_Damn smoke_. 

Mikasa rubs her eyes roughly, wetness smudging a long streak on the back of her hand. 

The battle’s a battle, nothing new. It’s the same as it’s been for the past god-knows-how-many years: run after Eren to clean his fucking messes and drag his sorry butt to safety. Or, as Sasha said: “ _Save ass, kick ass._ ” She’d given Mikasa a kiss “ _f_ _or good luck!_ ” before she had to jump from the airship. 

She can still feel the lingering warmth on her lips. 

The thunder-spears explode with a blinding flash. With the Warhammer’s wail, the scouts speed through the air, blood in their wake seeping through clinging black fabric. 

In the distance, she sees Sasha duck behind a chimney, her sniper rifle steady against her shoulder. Her muscles must be pulled taut right now as her entire body stills, a predator both patient and poised. Mikasa breathes deeply before breaking her glance to confront the battlefield. The hunter’s in her element. There’s no need to worry. Yet somehow, she can’t shake the feeling of dread that slowly churns in her gut. 

__________________________________________________________________________

She chokes a sob, pressing her lips to Sasha’s. Armin’s hands are shaking as he pumps.

They slot against her own, smooth and curved. Her fingers cup her cheeks, too pale, as she pushes a breath into Sasha’s mouth. It’s all wrong. The warmth of her soft lips is faded and growing colder with every desperate attempt at revival. 

Straining for the softest heartbeat, Mikasa presses her ear to her chest. The act is so horribly familiar, bile threatens to climb up her throat.

This isn’t Sasha. Nothing about Sasha is dull. These hollow eyes don’t belong to her. They aren’t her eyes, warm and shining with glee, and this isn’t her beaming smile, now slack and set.

Her Sasha was never this still and silent. 

Mikasa holds the limp body in her arms, delicately tracing her fingertips above empty soft brown eyes before she slowly slides them shut.

__________________________________________________________________________

She opens her eyes. For once, Sasha’s not hogging the covers, and there’s a distinct lack of drool coating her arms. _She must be exhausted_ , Mikasa smiles to herself. 

Moonlight drifts through the window, the scent of overripe blackberries carried on an autumn draft. She breathes in the soursweetness. Tomorrow, perhaps, they can walk to the river, hiking up their skirts as the bristly thorns threaten to catch on the fabric. More than anything, she wants to wriggle her toes in the cool sinking silt, for Sasha to splash her with the freezing water, _glacial icemelt_ , and for her to retaliate with a massive wave until they’ve both fallen in the water and soaked their clothes through. They’d strip bare, drying their dripping-wet dresses on a tree branch, basking in the warmth of the September sun as they taste the fruit on each other’s lips. 

The midnight breeze chills her delightfully. Mikasa laughs softly. “You never remember to shut it close, do you?” she murmurs, turning to the other side of the bed. 

It’s empty. 

The room is too silent. 

It slowly prickles through her stomach, that sickly sweet acid churning in her gut, its stench choking her lungs and souring her tongue. 

The bed is too cold. It’s too soft. It’s too big. She aches to surrender, to let it swallow her whole, to become a lump in its mass for another to complain of as they struggle to sleep comfortably. It would not be so bad, really, to sink into feathers bound by coarse cotton, and to breathe, filling her lungs and mouth with fluff until she’s stuffed solid. 

Someone touches her shoulder gently. Mikasa turns to see Jean looking back at her.

His eyes are red and bleary, and dark circles are etched into his face. He looks like shit. Bubbling up within her, she has the overwhelming urge to ask him “ _Why the long face?_ ” but her sense of humor’s far too dry for him to immediately register it as a joke. Sasha’s always been the best at joke delivery, particularly ones at the expense of Jean’s appearance. 

Her chest constricts. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, gesturing limply at the door, “I knocked.” 

She feels herself nod. “Sorry, feeling a little groggy.” 

He sits beside her. He breathes deeply; in for eight, out for eight. He continues and she begins to follow his pace. As her shaky breaths begin to even out to a soft, controlled tempo, he shifts. Mikasa leans into his side. feeling the solid warmth of his arm against her cheek. 

They remain in that comfortable silence for a while. Feeling the solid warmth of his arm against her cheek, she listens to the sound of his steady heartbeat. 

She shuts her eyes. “I never thought I’d miss the sound of her snores.”

Jean snorts. “That idiot,” he laughs, sniffling. “You’d think she’d wake up half the camp with those pipes. I swear, on a quiet night me n’ Connie would hear her all the way from the boy’s barracks!”

Mikasa smiles wryly, moving to wipe at her dripping nose with her sleeve. 

“Wait a sec,” Jean rummages through his pockets, “take this.” 

He wordlessly offers her a handkerchief. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She wipes roughly at her cheeks before blowing her nose violently.

He nods. “‘Course.”

She sighs, folding the fabric loosely. It’s limp and formless in her rubber grasp. 

“She loved you, you know,” Mikasa whispers. “You and Connie...she adored you both.”

Jean stills. 

“Sasha told me she loved three things: me, you two, her friends, and food.”

His body trembles as he chokes around a sob lodged in his throat. “She was never good at math, was she?” he jokes weakly, his voice wobbly and wet. 

Mikasa shakes her head, softly laughing. “She was absolute _ass_ at it.” 

Their laughter doesn’t fill the room; it hovers, closely and tightly. 

“Can we hug?” 

Mikasa nods, wrapping her arms around him. 

He sniffles. “Thanks, M’kasa.”

Her eyes sting.

_Damn wind._

Mikasa extracts her arm from Jean to rub her eyes, but he gently catches her wrist. 

“It’s ok if we cry,” he says, “I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in my notes app at 4 am sobbing and then forgot about it for two weeks then uploaded it into google docs to make myself suffer even more. It's 2:30 AM and I'm posting it after sobbing for the past two hours so please excuse the poor quality. Hope you guys enjoyed the pain as much as I did!
> 
> also i LIVE for comments *grabby hands*
> 
> talk to me on twt i'm @yelepieck


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